


Thursday, Bloody Thursday

by Enigel



Category: Cabin Pressure, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
Genre: Community: cabinpres_fic, Crossover, Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-08
Updated: 2011-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigel/pseuds/Enigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally <a href="http://cabinpres-fic.livejournal.com/728.html?thread=579800">posted on the meme</a></p>
    </blockquote>





	Thursday, Bloody Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> Originally [posted on the meme](http://cabinpres-fic.livejournal.com/728.html?thread=579800)

"Douglas, I have something very important to tell you."

"Really, Captain? Shouldn't you offer to get us both some drinks first or something?"

"But you don't drink!"

"Not for me, for you to finally get the courage to confess your irresistible lust for me."

"What? No, I don't have any- why are you people so obsessed with- that? This is important!"

"Lust is important too... Martin, does the _towel_ you're wearing on your shoulders constitute the object of your confession?"

"No. Well, yes, sort of. Do you have a towel?"

" _Should_ I have a towel?"

"Yes, it's very important. You should always know where your towel is."

"Intriguing addition to our standard operating procedures. Will I be throwing it down on your behalf at any point?"

"Never mind, I brought a spare one. Here, don't lose it!

"Ye-es. Martin, that important thing you were meant to tell me, is it that you forgot to say no to drugs?"

"No, Douglas, why can't you be serious for a moment? This is very serious. And important. Douglas, I... am an alien."

"♫ I'm an alien, I'm a legal alien, I'm an Englishman in ♫... England? How does that work, Captain?"

"Not that kind of alien, Douglas! Look, I'm not from Wokingham. I'm not from England, in fact I'm not from Earth at all. I'm an... alien from outer space, is the saying, I think. Betelgeuse, to be precise. And I know it's a bit unexpected, having your good friend Martin turn out to be a traveller from out of space and all. It must be a bit much to take on, and I understand if you want to take a moment or two... Douglas, stop laughing!"

"Sorry, Captain, you're right, this is no time for laughter, although it does explain so many things... I suppose the giant yellow bricks in the sky have something to do with your sudden reveal?"

"Well... yes. One, they're not bricks, and two- do you know what hitch-hikers are?"

"I think I have a fair clue..."

"They're the lowest of the low, the scum of the galaxy. I couldn't stand the filthy flea-ridden lot on my ship. But now I'm about to become one, and you're welcome to join me, because otherwise we're going to be vaporised, together with the whole planet. Bloody Vogons. Bloody Thursdays."

"Thursdays?"

"Never could get the hang of Thursdays. They're outlawed on Betelgeuse. It was a Thursday when I cr-landed here."

"Landed? Did you have a spaceship, Captain?"

"Remember that strange meteorite, quite a while ago?"

"I do, actually. It made quite a splash at the time... That was you?"

"Well, no, I had ejected to safety long before the ship hit the ocean, as per the standard operating procedure, but yeah, that was my Gerti."

"Gerti?"

"Yes. That's how I knew I had to get the job at MJN, you see! It's not the kind of coincidence that a conscious space traveller can ignore."

"I see. So you've been stranded on Earth for the past, hm, sixteen years?"

"Yes."

"How many of them did you spend trying to become a pilot?"

"T-ten."

"Ten years?!"

"I kept trying to hitch a ride, at first. After six years of bugger-all, I thought I'd become a pilot, to remain in the trade, so to say, and because airports are still the best chance to catch a signal with the Thumb-o-Matic in passive mode. Had to save what was left of the battery for a really urgent occasion, like, you know, Vogons coming to destroy the planet, which, by the way, is still a-"

"I'll return to this in a moment, but no, that was more like 'ten years to become a pilot of a simple terrestrial aircraft?' Do tell me more about the mighty intergalactic traveller you were, Captain Solo..."

"It's very hard to learn the controls of a primitive jet plane after flying standard hyperdrive spaceships for more than twenty years, you know!"

"Yes, of course. Which would be why, if I may I hazard a guess, your standard hyperdrive spaceship crash-waterlanded on Earth..."

"It was an accident! Could have happened to anyone!"

"Could have, might have, but it actually happened to..."

"Yes, all right. No need to harp on about it. I've had more than my share of punishment for that one little miscalculation. Sixteen bloody years trying to blend in with the weirdest alien culture I've ever encountered that hadn't discovered space travel."

"Apollo, Challenger?"

"Proper space travel, that could have got me out of here."

"I see. So all of- this, that was you trying to _blend in_?"

"Yes. I think I did pretty well, all things considered."

"Absolutely. No one could have _ever_ suspected."

"So... are you all right, Douglas?"

"Do I look not all right to you?"

"Shouldn't you be at least a little bit shocked?"

"Should I really? I always thought there was something a bit odd about you."

"Can't you _try_ to be at least a little impressed?"

"I'm trying my best, Captain."

 _(silence)_

"No, sorry, mildly intrigued is all I have for you today."

 _(sigh)_ "Bloody Thursdays."

"Now, about those Vogons..."

"The standard operating procedure only has one word to say, and that's 'Run like hell'!"

"Mighty traveller _and_ mathematician. I see."

"It's only one word in Galactic Standard!"

"I have no intention of running, Martin, or of letting them destroy my planet. Anything else in that little book with large friendly letters?"

"Er. Let me see. 'On no account should you ever let a Vogon read poetry to you.' That's it, really, after that there are only more ways to say 'Run' in various dialects-"

"All right, that should be enough to work with. Wait here, and don't get your towel in a twist."

* * *

"The Vogon ships... They're gone! And- we're still alive! What did you do?"

"I called Carolyn. Oh, hello Carolyn, we were just talking about you. How did Arthur get on with our alien guests?"

"Excellent. He graciously agreed to read a selection of his limericks to them. I don't think we'll be seeing the slimy lizards again very soon."

"Hello, Arthur. You look a bit down-spirited. What's the matter?"

"Ah, nothing, really. It's just, if they liked my limericks so much, why didn't they stay around for charades? I think they were just being polite, really."

"You all right, Martin?"

"I- it's- what- the Vogons don't do 'polite'! The Vogons aren't in the same galaxy as 'polite', and I mean that literally!"

"Ah, but the Vogons have never been in the same galaxy as Arthur before either, have they?"

"No, I... suppose that's an unique asset that Earth has."

"Here, Arthur. This will cheer you up."

"Oh wow, it's brilliant! Can I wear it like a cape, or do I have to wrap it around my neck like Skipper does?"

"Doesn't really matter, Arthur, as long as you always know where your towel _is_..."


End file.
